Jul 26
When in doubt, do without.
Hofni Samuel
"What are you doing?"
Ziva David stared in abject confusion as her partner gleefully patted all the cushions.
"Picking the best one," he told her, missing off the 'of course' which was present in his tone.
"Do you need a new cushion?" she inquired, slowly making her way over to his side and glancing round the store out of habit to make sure no one was about to kill her.
"Yes," he answered, not stopping his actions for a moment. "Oh, feel that one. Lovely and soft."
She obediently patted it, surprised it was actually quite soft. "Why? Did one of yours get a hole? Or did you finally throw one out the window at that woman who screeches outside your window in the evenings?"
He glared at her. "That's Betty and she's serenading me. Not that anyone's ever serenaded you. My cushions are fine."
Ziva decided not to tell him about Samuel, who had played his guitar outside her bedroom window until her father had attempted to snipe him for daring to disturb his sleep. She had gone on to date him, much to her father's disgust. "Then why are you buying a new cushion?"
"Because I want one?" He sounded as though the answer was perfectly obvious.
"But you do not need one," she argued. "In fact, you could do with getting rid of a few. You have far too many and the red one that sits at the end of your couch stinks."
"McGoo split a Caf-Pow! over it two summers ago."
"Then why do you still have it?"
"Because el jefe gave it to me for Christmas one year in the Secret Santa, and I don't want to think what he'd do if I got rid of it."
"I think he would understand about the Caf-Pow!"
"I can't tell him about it when I'm dead."
"You still do not need this cushion, even if you disposed of the red one."
"It's soft and fluffy, it's my money – I'm having it."
She glared at him as he walked towards the counter. He didn't need the cushion in the first place! She sighed. He would never understand.